


Five Times Stiles Told Derek 'I Love You' and One Time Derek Told Stiles

by aussiebee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebee/pseuds/aussiebee
Summary: Stiles keeps telling Derek he loves him. Derek... well, Derek is getting there.





	Five Times Stiles Told Derek 'I Love You' and One Time Derek Told Stiles

1.  
“... Oh my god  _yes_ , I’m  _fine_ ,” Stiles said exasperatedly into the phone, still holding his bloody, balled-up tee to the puncture wound in his lower abdomen as he sat on the Jeep’s hood.

 _“Well excuse the hell out of me for being concerned that someone fucking_ staked _you, Stiles, jesus christ.”_  Derek’s voice in his ear was harsh with concern.

“Ease up, drama-wolf,” Stiles rolled his eyes, peeling the sodden fabric back to check, and… nope, still bleeding. “It was barely even a stake.”

_“Stiles.”_

“It was a stick, okay?”

_“Not helping!”_

“More of a twig?” Stiles tried, smiling partly at Scott as he returned with the Jeep’s first aid kit, but also partly at Derek’s exasperated huff. “Look, Scott’s here, he’s going to throw a few stitches into it, and I’ll be better than ever.”

There was a moment of profound silence on the line as Scott began removing the supplies he needed from the zippered bag.  _“I hate that this is even a thing that you joke about,”_  Derek told him quietly.

“Not my fault I’m pale enough to be mistaken for a vampire,” Stiles snorted, then sobered with a hiss as Scott began cleaning the wound. “Look, I’ll come by and see you as soon as I get back into town, okay? You can check for yourself, do that thing where you act all disgruntled that I tease you about rubbing your face all over me and I pretend that I don’t totally love how possessive you are about your pack… fuck, Scott, I can  _feel your finger in there, god damn it.”_

 _“Yeah, because that sounds healthy,”_  Derek said over Scott’s muttered apology.

“What, the part where Scott is inside of me right now, or the part where we don’t admit to our unhealthy degree of codependency?” He ignored Derek’s pained sound of protest and forged ahead. “Look, I should be back within the hour, and I’ll send you a text at every mile marker along the way okay? I gotta go and bite down on something now, talk to you later love you bye.”

“Did you really have to say it quite like that?” Scott snickered, opening a sterile suture kit.

“You know I did,” Stiles huffed as he reclined across the hood.

There was a moment of silence where Stiles gritted his teeth hard enough to crack them as Scott cleaned the wound and began suturing before his best friend spoke again. “So. You and Derek, huh? Pretty serious, by the sounds of it.”

“What?” Stiles asked, trying not to shudder at the eerie sensation of nylon being drawn through his skin.

“Saying ‘I love you’ already? Kind of a big deal.”

Confused, Stiles ran the conversation with Derek back through his head and groaned when he realised Scott was absolutely right. “Oh my god, I’m never going to live this down… hang on, what do you mean, ‘me and Derek’? There’s nothing going on there, Scotty.”

“There’s not?” Scott asked, with a frown. “You sure?”

Ignoring the way his stomach flipped at the thought, Stiles chuckled and winced when it pulled at the wound in his abdomen. “I think I would know if I had something going on with Derek Hale, dude. Trust me.”

Scott tied off the last suture and glanced up at Stiles. “You know it wouldn’t matter, right?” he asked. “I mean, Erica would be totally into it, and Peter would be weird as hell, but-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Stiles said, holding out his hand for Scott to pull him into a sit, groaning as he did. “That’s plenty of nightmare fuel for one day, thanks.”

Scott just laughed and began to pack up, and Stiles forgot all about it as he tried to slide off the hood without hurting himself further.  
  


2.  
Finals were approaching and Harris was being a dick, again, so Stiles had decided to work twice as hard as he usually would to try and raise his grades. There was nothing wrong with an A minus, really, but he really wanted to stick it to Harris to see the look on the man’s face when he was forced to award Stiles with a higher grade. So he studied, and studied some more, and even asked Henry Bowman if he could borrow one of his older brothers’ college chemistry textbooks to better understand some of the topics they were covering.

That’s where Derek found him on Friday, sitting on his bed with three textbooks open around him, a tree’s worth of notes on paper, his phone and laptop both glowing, and with some kind of vaguely instrumental rock music playing softly.

Derek stood in the doorway for a long moment, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame and watched Stiles read with two pens in his mouth and one bouncing rapidly on his knee. He eventually sighed and spat the pens out, linking his fingers together and stretching his arms right up and over his head, lengthening his spine as he arched his back, the vividly red scar on his lower abdomen briefly visible.

“You’ve been studying hard, lately,” Derek said as he tore his eyes from the dark trail of hair beneath Stiles’ navel and smirked amusedly when he jerked with fright and somehow managed to smack himself in the back of the head with his joined hands.

“I don’t know what’s creepier,” Stiles told him snarkily, heartbeat rabbiting as he recovered from the shock, “you lurking in the bedrooms of teenagers, or the fact that you came in through the front door… what did you do to Dad to get up here without being shot?”

Derek took that as permission to enter the room and he sat in the chair at the desk, watching as Stiles’ attention drifted back to his notes. “Told him the Cubs were looking good to make it all the way, this season,” he said simply, almost laughing when Stiles’ eyes snapped back to him.  _Too easy._

“Screw the Cubs, and screw you too,” Stiles ranted, just as Derek had known he would. “I cannot believe that after everything that happened last season that they’d even have the nerve to-”

Derek did laugh at that, not missing the way Stiles’ eyes flickered restlessly between his mouth and his eyes. “I didn’t come here to rile you up,” he said easily, “so calm down.”

“What are you here?” Stiles asked, and Derek could hear his heart rate pick back up again. “What’s wrong, what do you need? Is someone hurt--?”

“Wow, you really need to relax,” Derek told him. “Everything’s fine, everyone is fine, and no one needs help. Well,” he added, narrowing his eyes at Stiles, “no one except you, maybe.”

“Christ, I am too young for adrenal fatigue,” Stiles muttered, rubbing a hand absently over his chest as he scowled at Derek. “Why are you here, then?”

Derek shrugged and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his head back to the headrest to close his eyes. “Haven’t seen you for a while,” he said. “Missed you.”

He didn’t see the way Stiles’ eyes widened in surprise or how his mouth dropped open a little in obvious confusion, but he did hear the irregular thump of his heart and scented the pleasure that suddenly filled the cool evening air drifting in through the open window.

“I-- oh,” Stiles said, voice soft and happy.

He was curiously still for a long while, until Derek opened his eyes a little and found Stiles watching him with an unusually unreadable expression. “Study,” Derek told him, toeing off his boots and lifting his feet to rest on the end of Stiles’ bed before resuming his previously relaxed pose. “I’ll stay for a while.”

Stiles did as ordered and for the next hour Derek dozed quietly, peaceful and content to be surrounded by the soft music, distracted hums and half-muttered words, and the soft rustle of pages being turned. He sighed when his phone vibrated in his pocket, but pulled it out and reluctantly sat up when he saw that it was from Isaac.

Stiles was still reading through one of the text books, pen in hand and ink on the side of his chin by the time Derek had pulled his boots back on. “I’ve got to go,” Derek said softly, not wanting to disturb him. “I’ll come see you tomorrow night, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Stiles muttered distractedly, sticking the pen in his mouth and picking up a green highlighter to mark something on the page he was reading. “Love you.”

Derek’s egress from the room didn’t falter, and he made no sound to disturb Stiles, but he could feel the flush that crept up the back of his neck and around to his cheeks as he headed down the stairs.

 

3.  
“Fuck, why does blood have to be so slippery?” Stiles grunted, his grip on the chamrosh’s neck failing as the dog-like creature snapped its huge and distinctly bird-like beak in front of his face, screaming as it tried to tear off his face. “Uh, guys? A little help?”

The chamrosh’s wings beat wildly as it tried to jerk itself from Stiles’ grip, and with the blood that had slicked its neck feathers and Stiles’ hands from the deep slash on his left forearm and the several torn bites on his right, it was about to succeed.

Suddenly, though, Derek was there, grabbing the pinion joints of the creature’s wings and tearing the beast off Stiles before ending its life with a slash across the throat. He glanced at Stiles who waved a bloodied arm and smiled, even through a face gone pale and shocky.

“I’m fine,” he managed. “Go help the others.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled his shirt up and over his head and tore at it to make strips, presumably to bind his own wounds with. Derek hesitated, but at Erica’s infuriated snarl he returned to the fray, helping his pack with the flock of chamrosh that had taken up residence not far from the most popular running trail in the Preserve.

By the time they had subdued almost all of them, the rest of the pack haring off through the trees to catch the last two who had gotten away, Stiles had dropped down to slump against the trunk of a tree, head bowed forward and skin ashen. That was how Derek found him, his own heart twisting sickeningly as he realised the cotton around Stiles’ wrists wasn’t doing much to halt the bleeding at all.

Without a word, he hauled Stiles upright and then lifted him into his arms to carry him back to the Jeep. Worryingly, Stiles made no protest at the manhandling, his eyes glazed and limbs floppy.

“Hold on, okay?” Derek murmured, finally stepping out of the tree cover and bracing Stiles’ body against the vehicle to fish the keys from his pocket. “We’ll get you to the hospital, and you’ll be just fine.” Stiles muttered something, forehead creased as Derek shoved him into the passenger side of the car. “What?”

“Said I love you,” Stiles sighed, eyes still closed. “And my dad. Tell him, okay?”

“Tell him yourself,” Derek snapped, buckling Stiles in and slamming the door closed as he sprinted to the other side of the Jeep and threw himself in behind the wheel, starting the ignition and leaving the Preserve in a spray of loose dirt and leaves.

  
4.  
“I just think there are better ways to create strong pack bonds than by actively searching out the mythological and downright freaky,” Stiles argued sensibly from his position lying across the armchair in the loft, head tipped back.

“Way to suck the fun out of my life,” Derek replied dryly from the staircase, making Stiles laugh.

“It’s good training,” Boyd explained. “Besides, it needs to be taken care of eventually, right? So why not do it on our terms for a change, keep the upper hand?”

Stiles and Derek both groaned. “Why?” Stiles asked. “Why did you have to go and jinx us like that?”

“It’ll be fine,” Erica said, with the overconfidence of an  _idiot._

*

It so  _wasn’t_  fine.

Yet again the pack found themselves outnumbered, and in this particular incidence, severely outclassed.

“What is it with things with wings, lately?” Stiles yelled at Scott as he tore past, late afternoon sunlight burnishing his skin gold and red.

“We’re so naming our band that,” Scott yelled back, wide grin firmly in place.

Stiles just backed away as the enormous perytons- huge deer with the wings and plumage of a bird, as well as avian hindquarters with massive talons- set up a defensive line, heads lowered, scarily pointed antlers creating an impenetrable barrier.

They weren’t attacking, though. They’d been taking by surprise, there were fifteen of them, and they were roughly the size of Seabiscuit; they clearly had the advantage, so why weren’t they pressing it? “What the hell do they want?” Stiles mused quietly to himself.

“Land, probably.”

“Well yeah, maybe, but…” Stiles began distractedly, but trailed off when he realised the voice that had come from behind him was not one that he recognised. He turned slowly and found a peryton standing behind him, dappled grey wings nestled closely against its sides and its head raised proudly.

“Holy shit, you can speak?” Stiles asked, somewhat redundantly.

“I have asked my rapture to maintain a defense so you and I may speak together,” the peryton told him. “I would put an end to this peacefully, if possible.”

“Absolutely,” Stiles agreed immediately, meeting the creature’s huge dark eyes. He had learned over the years to trust his instincts, and while he was still exercising healthy caution, he could detect no threat from the bird-stag thing. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“We know,” the creature said, dipping its head briefly whilst still maintaining its distance. “I am Tydes, and I am Vox for my rapture.”

“Rapture? Is that like a pack, or a herd?”

“It is a grouping of peryton, yes.”

“Very cool,” Stiles breathed. “Uh, so, do you want me to call my pack off? Maybe let them know that you guys just want to talk?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tydes told him, something like amusement colouring his tone. “There is nothing your kind can do to us that we won’t heal from.”

“That may be true, but the alpha over there, Derek? He’s kind of protective of his pack, and he might not react so well to seeing you and I here if he thinks you’re a threat.”

“I have woven a mild enchantment over us so that none of your pack can see that I am here,” Tydes confessed.

“Ah,” Stiles said, getting it immediately. “So we wouldn’t even know you were here unless you wanted us to know.”

“Quite so,” the vox replied. “My rapture and I have travelled far to be here, and we were hoping that you and your pack would be amenable to having us stay here, in your forest. It is similar to the one we fled, and we would like very much to make our home permanent once more.”

Stiles sighed. “I’m not sure why you’ve picked me to liaise with,” Stiles confessed. “I’m just a human, and a pretty mediocre one at that. Why not Derek?”

“Human you might be, but you are singular in your Alpha’s regard,” Tydes said. “He listens to you, and values your opinion above all others. Besides,” he added with a toss of his head and a slight pawing of his delicate front hoof that seemed to signify amusement, “you are stubborn and strong, and you are very clever. Dealing with you would be a provision of our continued largesse.”

“Huh,” Stiles said, mulling that over. “Okay. Okay, sure. Let’s talk.”

*

By the time night fell, Stiles and Tydes had reached an accord. In return for uninhibited access to the Preserve and protection by the Hale Pack, the peryton would keep themselves from discovery by any Beacon Hills residents and would offer their own assistance when it came to other supernatural entities they may face. Stiles had been forthright about the extent of their involvement in the drama that seemed to constantly plague the town, but Tydes had just tilted his head and pawed at the leaves again.

“We are… aware,” he said, amusement colouring his deep stentorian voice. “It is  _your_  specific involvement that allowed us to make our way here.”

Upon hearing that Stiles had added a proviso to their agreement that Tydes teach him what he knew of magic and sparks and power, agreed to insofar as it didn’t provide Stiles or the pack with information to compromise the rapture.

It was fairly straightforward as far as agreements went, but Stiles was mentally exhausted by the end of it, for while Tydes wasn’t trying to obfuscate, peryton by nature were clever and wily, and Stiles had to take particular care not compromise his own pack with any of the concessions.

When they decided that an agreement had been reached that was acceptable to both sides, Tydes let the glamour surrounding himself drop, holding his ground once Derek realised he was there and so close to Stiles and came hurtling across the clearing.

“Whoa, there, big guy,” Stiles shouted, catching Derek around the waist with both arms and halting his momentum with a concerted effort.

“I thought you’d gone home,” Derek snapped, face transformed by the beta shift and his hands gripping Stiles’ arm and hip tightly as he tried to shove the human behind him.

“Yeah, just strolled off because I was getting  _bored_ ,” Stiles snarked back. “No, idiot, I was coming to an agreement with Vox Tydes, here. They come in peace.”

The way Tydes scraped his hoof on the ground and tossed his head back made Stiles suspect he understood the reference and was amused by it. “It is true, Alpha Hale. My rapture and I simply wish to find somewhere to settle. Emissary Stiles has spoken thoughtfully and with consideration to try and reach an understanding, but if he does not speak on behalf of your pack--”

“He does,” Derek growled, posture still alert but his hands gentling on Stiles where they’d previously been gripping tightly. “If you have decided terms, my pack will uphold them.”

Tydes straightened one leg and bent the other as he bowed his head low, baring the back of his neck to Derek in a show of submission that was significant in symbolism. The fact was not lost on Derek who relaxed further, standing taller and allowing his shift to bleed away before maintaining eye contact and tilting his chin up and slightly to the side, a gesture Stiles recognised as tentative trust but not submission.

“Most excellent,” Tydes said as he rose again to his full height. “Come, Alpha Hale, and let us all speak together.”

*

“So, now we’re all friends,” Isaac said later from where he was crouched by the campfire they’d congregated with the peryton around, “is it too soon to ask if we can ride you guys?”

“Jesus  _christ_ , Isaac, you can’t just go around asking people if you can  _ride them_ ,” Derek protested angrily, his face a horrified rictus as Stiles utterly failed to suppress his laughter beside him.

“We had a deal with the elves in Ireland,” one of the younger peryton, Fethy, closest to Erica said, her voice thankfully amused. “If they could catch us, they could ride us.”

Stiles and Derek groaned as the eyes of the entire pack lit up at the challenge.

*

 _Much_  later that night, once Stiles had returned home and collapsed face-down onto his bed, he was unsurprised when Derek dropped down next to him, making him bounce.

“You did well today,” Derek told him, voice soft.

Stiles turned his head, eyes burning with fatigue, to find Derek smiling at him, a tiny thing made of curled lips and crow’s feet. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles sighed and let his eyes drop closed again. “I like them. The peryton. They seem cool.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed with a sigh of his own. “I was proud of you today.”

Stiles smiled, eyes still closed, and reached out to feel blindly for Derek’s face, drawing him closer until their foreheads were pressed together. “Thank you,” he murmured, sliding into sleep. “Means a lot, coming from you.”

And with that he was out.

*

So much later that it was almost sunrise Derek woke, wrapped loosely around Stiles, their legs tangled and Stiles’ forehead pressed to the base of Derek’s throat. Chest aching with something huge and unnameable, Derek carefully disentangled himself, then hesitated and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ sleep-warmed cheek.

Beautiful eyes made dark by the low light flickered open for a moment, softening in a smile before drifting closed again.

Derek’s heart thundered in his own ears as he carefully climbed off the bed, retrieving his shoes and jacket before sliding the window open. He had one leg out when Stiles hummed to himself and rolled over, pulling his pillow down to cradle it close against his chest. “I love you, Derek,” he said softly, breaths slow and heart calm, and Derek knew he was asleep.

That was okay, though, Derek thought. Because he was getting closer to being able to say it, too.

  
5.  
Since the peryton had moved into the Preserve, life had gotten downright peaceful.

And Stiles was  _bored_.

So when his phone rang at six one evening he leapt on it from practically across the room, making his dad snort a laugh before he turned back to the television.

“What’s up?” he asked a millisecond after swiping the screen to answer Derek’s call, dropping back onto the lounge. “Supernatural bad guy? Nemeton going crazy? Peter finally revealing himself to be the Death Eater we all know he is?”

There was a moment of pause before Derek spoke.  _“I always thought Peter was more like Snape,”_  he said slowly.  _“Obnoxious, unnecessarily combative, hostile. Belligerent but not inherently evil.”_

Even Stiles’ startled laughter wasn’t enough to drown out the background  _‘Hey!’_ from Peter on Derek’s end of the line, making him laugh even harder. “At least he’s got better personal hygiene,” he conceded eventually.

 _“I don’t know,”_  Derek said doubtfully. “Have you smelled how much  _Drakkar Noir he wears for his ‘dates’?”_

“Oh my god,” Stiles hiccupped as laughter ran through him again over the sound of a brief scuffle. “I thought you guys were sensitive to scents like that.”

 _“Some of us are,”_  Derek said lightly.

Stiles’ laughter was long and hard and he laid back along the sofa with his feet on the armrest. “So what’s up? What are you doing?” he asked when he had caught his breath.

 _“I-- I’m bored,”_  Derek said eventually, sounding bewildered.

“Oh thank god,” Stiles said, the exclamation gusting out of him in relief. “I felt like an idiot for even thinking it, given what the last couple of years have been like, but I’m about ready to start something just for the entertainment factor.”

“Don’t start no shit, won’t be no shit,” John told him wisely from the recliner.

 _“What that your_  father _?”_  Derek asked incredulously, making Stiles laugh again.

“Hey, my daddy-O is hip to the jive, dontcha know?”

 _“I have literally nothing to say to that,”_ Derek told him, sounding distinctly unsettled.

“Derek said you’re getting weirder in your old age,” Stiles lied to his dad, making no effort to cover the phone as he did so. Derek’s loud protestation was audible to John even across the room, and the sheriff grinned widely. “No but seriously, tell me you have something in mind to do, because I’m going crazy,” Stiles said, speaking back into the phone. “Safety and non-life-threatening events are super overrated.”

“You hush your mouth,” his dad said sternly at the same time as Derek said  _‘Stiles!’_  in the most put-upon tone Stiles had ever heard from him.

“I kid, I kid,” Stiles said, only partly meaning it.

 _“Liar,”_  Derek said as John snorted.  _“But I was thinking about going and seeing the old sci-fi movie marathon at_ The Crown, _if you were free?”_

“Hell yes,” Stiles hissed, swinging his feet off the sofa. “Meet you there in fifteen?”

 _“It doesn’t start until eight,”_ Derek told him.  _“Dinner at_ Joe’s _first?”_

“Root beer floats and burgers? Count me in.” He pressed the phone to his shoulder for a moment. “Going to dinner and the movies with Derek, okay?” he said to his dad. “There’s leftover lasagne in the fridge if you get hungry later.”

“Okay, kid,” John said. “Try not to tempt fate on your way there or back, okay?”

Stiles grinned and dropped a kiss to his dad’s head. “No promises, but I’ll try.” He lifted the phone back to his ear as he climbed the stairs back to his room to get changed. “Meet you there or you want to come pick me up?”

 _“I can swing by,”_  Derek told him,  _“it’s on my way.”_

“Cool,” Stiles said. “I’ll be ready whenever you get here.”

*

The food was awesome, and the movies were even better. The triple feature -  _Maximum Overdrive_ ,  _This Island Earth_ and  _Cosmos: War of the Planets_ ) was hilarious, and in spite of the three-quarters full cinema, they weren’t the only ones providing commentary of the utterly awful special effects, acting and paper thin sets (and plotlines). Derek found himself offering pithy asides to Stiles in the quiet moments just to hear him laugh, the wide unrestrained joy of it making his head spin a little.

It was almost three a.m. by the time the feature finished, and Stiles was so sugar-high and laugh-drunk that Derek ended up wrapping an arm around his waist and hooking a finger through his belt loop to keep him from weaving into other cinemagoers on their way out of the theater.

“That was  _so_  good,” Stiles told Derek as they made their way back to the Camaro, parked a block away in the lot of Joe’s. “The opening scene of  _Cosmos_  is a thing of beauty.”

“Did the space complex look familiar to you?” Derek asked, waiting on the sidewalk for a car to pass before crossing the road, Stiles’ arm hot as a brand as it wrapped around his waist beneath his jacket.

“Pretty sure it was pictures of the Japanese space launch centre,” Stiles grinned. “And hello, did someone say  _Barbarella_? That scene with the light show? Ugh, terrible. I  _loved_  it.”

Derek laughed and cut across the corner of the parking lot to the Camaro, hitting the fob button to unlock it as they approached. He reluctantly slid his arm from around Stiles as he pulled the passenger door open for him. “And  _A Space Odyssey,_ ” Derek told him, “don’t forget about that. Were they even trying to be subtle about it?”

Stiles turned with one hand on the open door, eyes alight with good humour. “Right? And the giant Death Star-shaped blue ball!” He paused before snickering to himself, breaking into a full blown laugh at Derek’s own grin. He let his laugh fade a little before reaching out and curling his fingers in Derek’s jacket, drawing him close with the open car door between them. “I love you, you giant nerd,” he said softly, eyes searching Derek’s for any sign of hesitation or distaste, and when he found none he pulled a little harder, bringing Derek close enough for them to kiss, mouths slotting together as naturally as breathing.

  
+1.  
“All I’m saying,” Derek said reasonably between kisses, shoving Stiles’ plaid shirt off his shoulders, “is that you’re bringing an extra dimension to--”

“And  _I’m_  just saying that you’re so fucking wrong it’s embarrassing, but you’re insanely hot, so it kinda balances out to you… well, still being insanely hot,” Stiles returned, “but also very, hilariously wrong.” He finished tugging his hands from the cuffs of the shirt and tore his tee up and over his head before sliding his palms over Derek’s pecs and around his back, stepping in nice and close to slide his tongue into Derek’s mouth.

“You’re only limiting yourself by not experimenting a little,” Derek told him between kisses, struggling to undo his pants when Stiles slid his hands down to his ass and tugged so their hips were pressed together.

“Oh, I think we’re pretty good with the experimenting,” Stiles murmured, his lips and teeth against Derek’s neck making him shiver. “But there are some things that end up turning out great, like spanking and that huge kink you have for near-miss exhibitionism, and some that are just abominations against nature, okay? Guess which category  _that_  falls into.”

Derek finally managed to shove his jeans down and stepped out of them as he pulled Stiles’ zipper down and reached into his boxers to get a hand on his dick, hard and wet and ready for him. “Only slightly hyperbolic,” Derek said derisively.

“Fuck hyperbole,” Stiles muttered, shoving at Derek’s chest a little so he had enough room to look down and watch as Derek jerked him off, confident and slow, “it’s a  _fact_.”

“If you want facts,” Derek hissed, shifting slightly so he could grab Stiles’ hand and position it so their dicks were pressed together with both of their hands stroking them, “I can point you to any top ten list made in the last ten years-”

“ _Vox populis_  does  _not_  a fact make, Derek,” Stiles muttered, glancing up at Derek and licking his lips, prompting Derek to use his free hand to cup his cheek and hold him steady to kiss the hell out of him.

“I thought that’s how that little bastard Bieber got famous,” Derek shot back, dropping his hand to shove down the back of Stiles’ pants, fingers slipping down the crack of his ass to brush across his hole, dry and teasing. “Besides, your  _fact_  is ‘ew gross, why would anyone ever do that’, so I don’t see how you have the moral high ground here.”

Stiles laughed breathlessly, because Derek’s hate-on for Justin Bieber would never not be funny, ever. “ _Onus probandi_ , love- it’s your job to prove it, not mine to disprove it,” Stiles told him.

“Which brings us back to your refusal to experiment,” Derek growled, pressing in a little and making Stiles’ breath hitch. “You’ve always trusted my mouth before; why not now with this?”

“Oh my god, you manipulative bastard,” Stiles groaned, his hips jerking indecisively between their hands and Derek’s fingers against his asshole. “You know how I feel about your mouth.”

“Why don’t I remind you, then?” Derek asked slyly, kissing Stiles once more before removing his hands and sitting on the end of the bed, grabbing Stiles’ hips to pull him into the vee of his legs and shoving his pants down past his knees. “If I can make you come in two minutes you have to try it… a real try, not an ‘I’ve made up my mind already’ try.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles said, sliding his hands into Derek’s hair and staring down at him.

“Better watch the clock, then,” Derek smirked, and promptly sucked Stiles’ cock into his mouth deeply enough that the head nudged up against his soft palate on the first pass.

 _“Shiiit,”_  Stiles slurred, fingers tightening in Derek’s hair as his eyes rolled back. “I don’t even care, anymore. Promise me you’ll do that forever and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Derek managed a grin around the hot, velvety skin against his tongue and swallowed, prepared for the abortive jerk of Stiles’ hips when he did, just taking it as he relaxed his throat and swallowed around his cock. He lifted his hands to Stiles’ ass and squeezed, encouraging him to rock his hips forwards, fucking into Derek’s throat with more restraint than Derek needed but enough care that he smiled again.

“You’re so beautiful,” Stiles murmured, rubbing his thumb back and forth beneath Derek’s left eye, biting his own lip against a groan as Derek began applying his tongue more judiciously. “Oh shit, Derek, I’m so not making it to two minutes, I’m fucking ready to go  _now_.”

Derek increased suction and met Stiles’ next thrust by forcing his face forward so his breathing was cut off and his lips caressed the wiry hair at the base of Stiles’ cock. He began swallowing rhythmically and closed his eyes when Stiles made a tortured noise and came, his dick pulsing against Derek’s tongue as he emptied down his throat.

Derek gave him a moment and then pulled off, sucking in a shuddery breath as he rested his forehead against Stiles’ hip, lean thighs trembling beneath his hands as they recovered. Stiles’ restless hands petted the back of Derek’s head, curled around the back of his neck, stroked softly over the breadth of his shoulders until he was steady enough to push Derek back on the bed, arranging them both until Derek was stretched out and Stiles was sitting across his thighs to jerk him off, both hands stroking and twisting in the rhythm he knew Derek liked best, long upstroke, a pass of the thumb across the slit, short downstroke with a twist, and repeat.

Reaching up to grip the headboard, only partially because he knew Stiles liked to watch the flex of his biceps as he did so, Derek’s thighs tensed and he arched his back a little, sighing out his pleasure.

“‘S good,” he managed, making Stiles smile up at him.

“Looks good, too.”

With a dry chuckle, barely able to keep his eyes open against the intensity of the pleasure Stiles was wringing from him, Derek tried to focus, tried to prolong the sensation and memorise the way Stiles’ strong, slightly roughened hands felt on the most sensitive parts of him, the way it felt to have those long fingers trail over his balls and further back, disappearing briefly to return slick, perfect pressure sliding in and up a little until he found that one spot that had Derek shooting all over his own belly and Stiles’ fist.

Stiles pressed slow, lazy kisses to Derek’s mouth, eyelashes brushing against cheekbones and skin beautifully flushed as they curled around each other, messy and sated.

“Guess I’ve gotta try it now, huh?” Stiles smiled, nuzzling at the underside of Derek’s jaw.

“Trust me, I’ll make it good for you,” Derek promised..

“I do trust you,” Stiles said unhesitatingly.

“I love you,” Derek told him, his stomach still fluttering with nerves at how monumentally huge those words were.

“I know you do,” Stiles smiled beatifically, “even if you’re wrong and unnaturally-inclined.”

“Oh my god,” Derek groaned, rolling his body on top of Stiles. “You said you’d try it!”

“I didn’t say I’d stop whinging about it,” Stiles pointed out correctly.

“It’s fucking pineapple, Stiles, not arsenic.”

“And I maintain that it  _does not belong on pizza_.”

“You just haven’t done it right,” Derek told him, scowling.

Stiles couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from somewhere deep within him. “You’re ridiculous. Kiss me again, nerd.”

“Don’t know if I want my tongue anywhere your unsophisticated palate,” Derek said haughtily, Stiles’ body shaking with good humour beneath his as he leaned down for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Pineapple on pizza is life. [Come talk about it with me.](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/aussiebee)


End file.
